


Conquest

by Steena



Series: Closer 'verse [6]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, At least for Jazz n' Cade, Bondage, Break Up, Bullying, Confessions, Defection, Drinking, HEA, Loneliness, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, demotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15497979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: The downward spiral continues, at least it does until Jazz finally decides to do something about it. Barricade is waiting with open arms, as always, and it's suddenly an easy choice to make them both happy. It's their HEA, but for the rest of the world? Not so much...Sequel to "Concubine"





	Conquest

**Author's Note:**

> There's a not very graphic non-con scene in here with a mech too drunk to say 'no' or struggle. It's marked with ~*~*~*~ in the beginning and end of the scene if you don't want to read that. Not reading it will not have any impact on the rest story.

"In the light of recent events, I have no choice but to demote you. I'm sorry. You are no longer an Officer." 

"Wha'?!" Jazz stares up at Optimus, visor bright with surprise.

"You repeatedly engaged in sexual activity with a  _Decepticon!_  Without telling high command, and without taking advantage of the situation, thereby making yourself untrustworthy. Jazz, you're effectively a  _traitor_! Some mechs would say you should be  _executed_. And your personal problems with my second in command is presenting a problem that spills over on your professional life. With all those points taken into account, I have no choice."

_The worst part of it is that Jazz can't deny it. Him and Prowl do have problems to cooperate professionally nowadays._

"I have no choice but ta respect your wishes." He says dejectedly. "Will tha' be all, Sir?" 

"Yes. Dismissed."

Jazz is at the door when Optimus speaks up again.

"Jazz. I'm sorry..."

"Not nearly as sorry as I am." Jazz mumbles.

"Please, send Bumblebee in."

Jazz drags his pedes and hangs his helm when he walks through the door, none of his seemingly perpetual good mood left in him.

"Bossbot wanna see ya, Bee." He says to Bumblebee.

"That's  _Officer_   _Bumblebee_  to you now." Sunstreaker sneers at the Spy.

Jazz flinches at the derision in the Frontliner's voice.

"Yeah, we 'eard ye got demoted. Tha's wha' 'appens when ye run around fucking filthy  _Cons_." Crosshairs fills in.

Jazz doesn't want to hear anymore. He totters off towards his quarters and flees inside. With his back against the closed door, he slides to the floor to sit with his forehelm against his knees.

"I guess you know now." Prowl's flat voice rings out and Jazz flinches.  _He thought he was alone._

"I was demoted." Jazz mumbles.

"I know. I voted for it."

Jazz's helm snaps up.

" _Wha_ '?!"

"Tactically, it was the most sound thing to do. So I voted for it."

"How  _could_  ya?! Ya  _know_  how much I love Spec Ops 'n' all tha'!"

"Perhaps you should have thought about that before you allowed a  _Decepticon_  to stick his spike in you?"

"Why d'ya always hafta go there? I made a few  _mistakes._  I'm so fucking _sorry!_  But takin' my  _job_ away won't make tha' go away."

"I can not work with you and the troops do not trust you anymore. It was the most logical course of action."

"I can't believe ya. Get outta my  _room_!" Jazz snarls.

"This is Officer's quarters. This room is assigned to me and my old room will be Bumblebee's. I hope you understand that you cannot be allowed to have your own hab suite when the rest of the troops does not." Prowl says in that infuriatingly calm voice if his.

"Are ya kickin' me  _out_?!"

"No. We are still  _betrothed_. Of course you are welcome to stay. We need to work on our relationship."

" _Thank_  you." Jazz says flatly, too upset to actually be thankful.

 

 

*****

 

 

It's painfully obvious that he has fucked things up to the point of no return, things will never be the same. And, still, Jazz can't really  _regret_  it. Oh, he wishes it wouldn't have come to this. But regretting it would mean regretting  _Barricade_  and he's unable to do that. Just like he finds himself unable to blame the Saleen for this, can't be mad at him for outing their love affair to everyone.

_Maybe that's why it's so hard to_  quit.

He has stayed away from his lover for quite some time now, but his demotion and Prowl's betrayal adds up with the way the others avoid him to make Jazz _need_  again.

So he comms the Mustang.  _Of course he does._

And Barricade agrees to meet him, even though the Decepticon sounds hesitant.  _He always does._

Jazz slips out, doesn't tell anybot that he's going.  _He lacks the energy to come up with an excuse right now, and they'll probably not believe him anyway._  He creeps away from base with all his stealth technology activated, lights turned off, and as soon as he's out of the range of the residents' sensors, he guns his engine straight for their spot.

He arrives first, and for long minutes, his spark is spinning, because he's afraid that Barricade finally has gotten tired of him, has found a Con to love and isn't coming.

But then he hears the familiar growl of the Interceptor's finely tuned, high power engine and his spark soars when Barricade skids to a halt in front of him and transforms languorously, giving Jazz a show that has the Spy's fans speeding up.

He tackles Barricade with a desperate hug, the Saleen standing stiffly with his arms stretched out for long seconds, as if he's uncertain what to do.  _He always does that._

Then arms snake around Jazz and the Solstice melts into the familiar warmth of his Mustang.

"I missed ya, Cade. Missed ya so fuckin' much." Jazz mumbles into Barricade's neck-cables, greedily drinking in the smell of his lover.

"You always do." Barricade murmurs back.

"Like ya can't believe." Jazz says, kissing Barricade's neck-cables, up to the strong line of his jaw.

"I think I can imagine." Barricade says, a slight hitch to his voice.

The Interceptor tenses up for a few seconds before he gives in and turns his helm to catch Jazz's lipplates in a kiss that says more than an entire novel.

Jazz's optics brighten in surprise when he's lifted and his back is smashed against the wall of the canyon.  _It has always been Jazz who takes the initiative._  But he eagerly wraps his legs around the Mustang's hips when the Decepticon grinds his pelvic plating against Jazz's hot panel. The Spy retracts it, cool night air making his wet valve clench in invitation to the silent question.

" _Please_." He moans when Barricade grinds scorching plating against his puffy valve-lips.

The Interceptor pressurizes his spike and slides it teasingly through Jazz's folds without sliding insidd the eager Autobot. He hums in amusement, kissing and nipping at the Spy's neck and collar fairing and Jazz mewls in desperate want, strains his legs against the Decepticon's hips to try to urge him to get his spike into Jazz's valve.

"Oh, please, please,  _please,_ Barricade, I  _need_  ya!" Jazz chants, talons scrabbling against Barricade's shoulders.

"You don't need me. You just want my cock inside you, want to get fucked to scratch that ever present itch of yours." Barricade growls.

"No! I want ya! I need ya. I've missed ya so much." Jazz whines. " _Please_!"

Barricade slides into his slick valve and Jazz cries out in unadulterated pleasure.  _It feels so right._  He attacks Barricade's intake with his own, pouring all his want and need into the kiss, and Barricade answers.  _Like he always does, so very passionate._

The Saleen is rutting into him hard and fast and Jazz is using both arms and legs to smash the Interceptor as close as he possibly can, hanging on as if the Decepticon is his lifeline in the storm.  _Maybe he is._

Jazz overloads with a wail, pressing the back of his helm against the rock wall in a reflexive attempt to arch his back and Barricade chuckles against his collar fairing.

"So pliant and eager and passionate." He murmurs, something decidedly smug in the Interceptor's voice.

"Yes!" Jazz hisses, lipplates finding Barricade's again and the Mustang seems to be trying to devour him.

With powerful thrusts and a thumb rubbing Jazz's anterior node just  _so_ , Barricade sends Jazz over a second time when the Decepticon spills his transfluid inside the ex-Third in command of the Autobots.

They sink to the ground in a heap and Barricade lazily moves them around until they're stretched out on the side, legs tangled and arms wrapped around each other.

"I was demoted. 'm just a grunt now. Maybe I should really call myself Ricochet? Bouncin' off everything I finally hit just to be thrown in a different direction..." Jazz says when his fans have slowed and his vents are back to normal.

Barricade sighs and looks up at the sky.

"Why does it  _always_  have to be some shit going on?" He asks bitterly.

"Whadd'ya mean?"

" _Every_  single time you see me, you tell me how much you miss me, how much you  _want_  me. That you  _need_ me. And every time, the only reason you show up in the first place, is because some slag is happening in your life. What am I, rebound? A distraction?"

" _No_! I..." Jazz falls silent.  _What, exactly, is he going to say? Barricade is_ right. _He does call when he has reached a tipping point. But if he's perfectly honest with himself, that's not all there is to it._  "I do miss ya at other times too."

Barricade snorts, but there's no amusement in the sound. "Wow.  _Thank_  you. Like, when you're spreading your legs for my brother and it's so bad, you have to  _fake_  your overload?"

Jazz narrows his optics and glares at the Saleen. He shouldn't be surprised that Barricade knows. Lord knows Jazz has seen most things Barricade has done with other mechs, but this was still a low blow.  _Or did it just hit too close to home?_

The Mustang turns back to him, red optics meeting blue visor unflinchingly and there's so much sadness in the Mustang's field, Jazz almost recoils.

"I know I've said it before and I know it won't change anything. I just wish you wouldn't use me only when you've had a crappy day. Istill _love_ you, Jazz."

_So much is wrong between them, and mostly those wrongs are on Jazz's side. The Spy can't lie to himself about that anymore, not when it's hurting Barricade so badly. He is using Barricade in a very selfish and unfair way, he has to start to be honest with himself about that._  And he needs to be honest with Barricade about one very important point.  _And to himself too._

"I love you too."

 

 

*****

 

 

He sneaks into the base much later, hoping that everyone is tucked in for the night and recharging.

_But that would just be too easy_.

It isn't often Jazz is surprised and taken off guard, but there's one rather unlikely mech who can succeed with that.

"Was it worth it?" Ironhide steps out from the shadows of the hallway behind Jazz.

The Spy spins around, spark spinning wildly as he glares at the Weapons specialist.

"I don' know whatcha talking 'bout."

"Don't play stupid. Coming home newly washed and partially polished is as obvious as coming home with paint transfers and the smell of someone else's solvent clinging to your plating." Ironhide crosses his massive arms. "Even more obvious, actually. Paint transfers and the smell of a heated frame might as well be from hand to hand combat."

Jazz slumps and doesn't answer.

"Never mind. It isn't really _me_  you have to answer to. Prowl's still in the rec room. He wants to speak with you."

Jazz nods once, a sinking feeling in his tank when he turns and Ironhide follows him.  _So this is what it would feel like to be walked into base after being apprehended by Ironhide. Barricade better not put himself in that position._  The Weapons specialist is a heavy presence behind him and it's very intimidating.

Half the crew is still there when they enter and everything falls silent, all attention on the ex-Officer.

"Welcome _home._ " Prowl says.

"Thanx. It's good ta  _be_  home." Jazz tries.

" _Really_? Then why did you not stay in the first place?"

"I needed ta get out a li'l. A lot ta process,  _ya know_ , with my  _demotion_  n' all..." Jazz can't stop himself from sounding venomous.

"So you had to seek some comfort from a pleasurebot."

"Stop calling him tha'! Why do ya even use it as a derogatory term?"

"I am just calling things as I see them. Do you not think it is vile to sell one's frame to anybot willing to pay for it?"

"Barricade is  _not a pleasurebot._  I took his  _seal_ , for frags sake." Jazz snarls.

The mechs gathered shifts around uncomfortably in the thick silence following Jazz's admission.

"And then he started whoring himself out to the entire Decepticon army. You woke his coding, then. What did you do tonight? Did he bend over the closest hard surface so you could use him too?" Prowl asks in that infuriatingly flat tone.

"No, he has no such codin'. I would know, since  _I_  was a pleasurebot b'fore tha war. N'  _he_  fucked  _me_  against a wall. Hard n' deep."

Prowl's optics are cold when he glares at Jazz.

"You thought that was not something you needed to tell me  _before_  we bonded? You did not think I deserved to know that you have _sold your frame_  before we decided to get engaged? How many have you interfaced with?!"

"Does it really matter? I just wan'ed ta be with  _ya_ , nobot else." Jazz asks him, so hurt.

"Of course it does! Did you really think that I wanted that? So when your _coding_  sets in and you compulsively need to interface with somebot else, I would just accept it? Did you  _really_  think that I would be happy with being bonded to a  _whore_?" Prowl's voice is so cold, his words seeping into Jazz's spark like poison. "Well, I guess you were really happy being fragged by Ironhide and Sideswipe then. But tell me, dear conjux to be, is it just Barricade or the rest of the Cons too? Do they take turns to use your frame, just like they use Barricade? You two fit so well together."

Jazz stares at his betrothed, spark feeling like ice behind his chestplates. He can't stand being there anymore, so he does something cowardly that he hasn't done in a very long time.  _He runs._

Leaves all the Autobots witnessing their argument behind and runs outside, coming to a stop behind the hangar. The ex-Third in command sinks down against the wall and curls up, crying into his knees, because he haven't felt this cheap since he reconciled with what he did as a living before the war.

 

 

*****

 

 

He moves out of Prowl's quarters, but staying with the others is awful. They either resent him, treats him like a pariah, or they try to trigger coding he doesn't have anymore.  _They just won't listen when he tells them that._  He could defend himself, of course, but he finds it incredibly hard to enforce the limits his friends cross. Well, it's questionable if they consider themselves friends off Jazz's anymore, but he still sees them as his friends and allies and it isn't easy to draw a line for inappropriate physical contact when he always has been touchy feely with them before. Their intentions might have changed, but the touches aren't that different.

Sometimes, when he doesn't want to recharge in the crowded hangar the grunts share, he winds up in Ironhide's berth. The Weapons specialist sees no problem with fucking Jazz after Prowl renounced him, and Prowl doesn't seem to hold it against his fellow Officer. 

When Jazz is splayed out on Ironhide's berth for the seventh time, chest pushed into the mattress by a heavy servo on his back, aft hiked up by a big servo curled around his hip, it feels good, and Ironhide allows him to spend the night. The big mech isn't cuddly, but he doesn't mind sharing his berth either. It's when the Weapons specialist has fallen into recharge the self derision comes.  _He whored his frame out for better sleeping quarters_.

Jazz knows it's ridiculous to think like that. He likes interfacing with Ironhide. He didn't do it just for a soft berth. It's nice to be close to a mech.  _But if he had been recharging with Barricade right now, there would have been sweet kisses and tangled limbs._

He still sleeps in there, because it's better than being propositioned half the night by horny mechs who look down on him but still want to fuck him.

It doesn't help with getting some space. Of course the others see when he's flirting with Ironhide. And that cements their belief that Jazz is willing and easy. So they pursue him even more doggedly than before, wanting to get him into any nearby berth.

 

 

*****

 

 

It's the little things that hurt the most. 

The way he isn't asked if he wants to come along when the others go for a drive. Jazz hears about the car chases on TV or on the radio of the local police. Not from his friends. 

He isn't invited to movie night and when he stumbles in on it in the rec room, they claim that they forgot to tell him, that he wasn't there when they went to ask. It's such a transparent lie, because he has spent the entire day on his hard and lumpy mattress in the recharging hangar, but he doesn't call them on it.

Or how they never let him have their backs when they have a drill, or go on a scouting mission, or check up on a suspected Decepticon activity. Nope, he's put up front and center, like cannon fodder.  _Maybe they think he will be safe, that the Cons won't shoot the slut they're fucking._

And then there was that time when Sideswipe had cooked up some high grade and everybot not in high command got overcharged. Except Jazz, because nobot asked him if he wanted a cube.

Prowl doesn't really speak to him anymore, except when he has to for professional reasons, but Jazz knows that he's still angry. The ex-Officer is certain, because not even after a pranking spree did Sideswipe get as much cleaning duty as Jazz has had lately. Crosshairs "accidentally" missed the target on the gun range and blew up Simmons' car.  _The car was 200 yards to the side from the target, that the Sniper would miss by that much is ludicrous._  Still Crosshairs got an evening without TV while Jazz was scrubbing the maintenance room because he forget to restock the dispenser with sour energon, the kind almost nobot drinks anyway.

And Jazz seems to always get the bullshit missions.  _Watching a low interest target, listening in on conversations that never turns interesting...._

Perpetually happy Jazz is slowly losing his hopes of ever getting back in the good graces of the Bots.

 

 

*****

 ~*~*~*~

 

He seriously fucks up.

The next time there's high grade, he's allowed to join the other grunts and Jazz is so happy.  _Maybe they're finally coming around?_

They pull their mattresses together on the floor and sit in a ring, drinking and talking and laughing. It's nice. He finally remembers why he likes being with the Autobots, the camaraderie.

They do touch him, but for once he doesn't mind. The others touch each other too; a pat on a thigh here, clapping somebots shoulder, a slide of digits along his back-struts. Jazz touches them back.  _They've always done this_. He flirts with them, and they flirt back. It's Jazz's way of being friends, has always been, and it feels so good to be back.  _Accepted_.

Everyone is getting more overcharged and more touchy. Jazz is so drunk, he can't really tell when they laid down,  _how he started making out with Sideswipe_ , but when a servo slides up the inside of his thigh to his interface panel, he pulls back.

"I'm not sure..." He mumbles, not entirely certain who's servo is pawing his panel.

"Aaw, come on, Jazz. You liked it when me and Hide did you." Sideswipe pouts before he presses a playful kiss against Jazz's lips.

Digits are toying with his interface plate and Jazz squirms weakly under the Frontliner, their laced digits suddenly feeling less sweet and more restraining.

The digits questing the seams of his interface plate find the latch and it's manually shifted to the side and Jazz wishes he wasn't so drunk, that he had the strength to struggle. 

His node is flicked, and digits slide into him and Jazz can feel his valve going wet. He squirms, tries to get away, but it's useless; he's too drunk and powerless. The digits stimulate nodes inside him and he feels his charge rising.

"Wait, I'm..." Jazz mumbles.

"Come on, Jazz. We just want to have a little fun." Sideswipe croons, sliding his servos down Jazz's arms.

"'e's soppin' we'. 'e likes it!" Crosshairs says to Sideswipe, pushing more digits into Jazz's valve.

The Frontliner slides a servo over Jazz's chest, toys with seams in his plating, then Jazz's legs are kneed apart.

"I don't..." It's barely audible and Jazz curses his uncooperative frame, that's he was stupid enough to get this drunk.

Crosshairs lines up and sinks into Jazz with a groan and immediately starts thrusting. Sideswipe is still caressing Jazz's frame, licking the seams of Jazz's chestplates. He slides a servo down Jazz's ventral plating to where the Sniper and the Spy are joined and starts to flick Jazz's node.

_Jazz overloads._  Crosshairs moans when Jazz's valve clenches around his spike and slams in deep, overloading inside Jazz. The Corvette moves away as soon as he's finished and Sideswipe takes his place. Jazz lays there limply, close to passing out, when the Frontliner takes over where Crosshairs finished.

The ex-Officer is jostled with every thrust, the movements keeping him from falling asleep.

"Stop it." He slurrs, but it's unintelligible, even Jazz himself can hear that.

Sideswipe overloads and Jazz is flipped over on his front. His legs are nudged apart again and somebot hikes his hips up and then he's filled again.

_He just wants to fall asleep._

The next mech ruts into him, Jazz's face pushed into the matress with every thrust, and then more warm cum spills inside him. Another mech is waiting when the last one is finished and Jazz feels another cock slide into him and he wonders how long they're going to keep this up.  _He's so fucking tired_.

 

 ~*~*~*~

*****

 

 

When Jazz reboots, he's all alone on his mattress, in the middle of the hangar. The others have grabbed their mattresses and headed back to their usual places. The lights are out, and a quick scan shows that everybot is in recharge.

He's sticky and sore and he feels used and dirty and for the second time in a very short while, Jazz breaks down and sobs, feeling utterly alone and miserable.

_They didn't really want his friendship, they just wanted to fuck him._

After a little dawdling, he places  _that_  comm.

"Hey, Jazz." Barricade sounds wary, as always.

_For good reason._ _Jazz really has been a complete ass._

"Hi, Cade."

"What do you want this time?" There's hope and apprehension and just a hint of derision in the Saleen's voice.

"I...ah... I jus' wanned ta hear your voice." Jazz mumbles.  _It's true._

"I like hearing from you." Barricade says, voice more open, less wary.

"I miss ya."

Barricade hums wordlessly in answer, probably waiting to see where Jazz takes this. It's always Jazz who initialize their meetups.

"I miss you too." Barricade whispers when Jazz doesn't ask to see him.

"I want ta see ya soon. But I canna' get away right now. I jus' wanned ta talk a li'l. See if you're ok." Jazz explains, feeling bad for only calling when he needed to see his Mustang.  _He better change that_.

"I'm fine, I guess. We're short on fuel again, and the humans are after us really bad. But I'm still online."

"Then we hafta meet up. I'll bring ya some fuel." Jazz says.  _It wouldn't do for Barricade to starve and become sloppy or weak. If the humans catches him, then Jazz can't help him._

"Call me when you can." Barricade says, not as hesitant as before.

"Will do."

They hang up, and Jazz lays there in the dark for a while longer. Then he heads for the washracks. He's not hungover yet, he's still drunk, but he scrubs himself all over repeatedly, trying to wash out his valve. He knows he shouldn't, should go to Ratchet and have a sample taken, but he just can't stand the disgusting glop slowly oozing out of his valve.

 

 

*****

 

 

The Spy is standing in front of the Officer cadre. He's determined to tell them all, they need to hear it, so they can take action.

"I was raped yesterday."

It's so quiet, he could hear a pin drop.

"By who?" Prime finally manages to get out.

"Sideswipe and Crosshairs for sure, n' then a few more, but I don't know who."

"How can you not know who did it?" Ironhide asks.

"I...uhm...they flipped me so I was on my front and they took me from behind."

"I have a hard time believing this. I know Crosshairs is an ass, but a rapist? That's one hell of an accusation." Bumblebee clips together from his radio.

"How did this happen?" Ratchet says, trying to keep his professional facade.

"I had some high grade n' we were flirtin', like we always do. I started ta make out with Sideswipe. We were kissin' and cuddlin' and then Crosshairs opened my panel n' started fingerin' me while Sideswipe kept makin' out with me."

Jazz can hear how it sounds out loud.

"Did you tell them that you didn't want to?" Optimus asks.

"I... I tried ta, but I was so drunk, and they kept me so busy." Jazz says weakly.  _He didn't really tell them that he didn't want it, didn't get a chance, but he didn't say he wanted it either._

"What did you do when he started fingering you?" Ratchet asks.

"I think I squirmed. Could'na get away. I was so drunk."

"Did you even try to close your legs?" Prowl asks detachedly.

"I...no, I don' think so." Jazz spark is speeding up.  _He didn't want it! They have to believe him! Right?_

"So, to summarize this: you drank too much high grade of your own free will, you flirted with some of the others and started to make out with Sideswipe. Him and Crosshairs then proceeded to have sex with you, and possibly someone else joined in too, but you do not know for certain. It could be Sideswipe and Crosshairs having intercourse with you again. You did not say 'no' and you did not physically try to stop them. Did you sustain any damage that would prove that it was in fact a rape?" Prowl asks.

"No, they weren't violent or rough and I was wet after Crosshairs fingered me." Jazz mumbles, embarrassed.

"Did you overload?" Prowl bites out.

"I...what does this have ta do with anything?" Jazz's voice breaks.

"Just answer."

"I did. Twice, I think." Jazz whispers, optics locked on the floor.

"I am sorry, I do not think we have a case here. There is no evidence, not even circumstancial. Jazz just woke up and realized what his course of action looked like and fabricated his unwillingness to save his faceplates. Continuing to investigate this will only sow discord in the army." Prowl states.

Jazz is outraged.

"Now, hang on a sec..."

"No. You listen. You laid on your back,  _as usual,_  and spread your legs enough for somebot to open your interface plate, to finger you and prime you for interface. What were they supposed to think? That the mech who admitted he is a pleasurebot was not  _willing_? I am  _not_  going to accuse two good soldiers of being  _rapists_  just because you cannot keep your legs together!" Prowl snarls.

Everything goes quiet when the words sink in. Jazz feels like crying. He has never been this humiliated, has never felt this unwanted before.  _Never felt cheaper. He's just a pleasurebot to them now._

"While I would have used more delicate words, I have to agree with Prowl. It would be strategically unsound to investigate this further. If you find any evidence of this rape, of course we will look at those." Prime says, glancing sideways at Prowl in slight disapproval.

"I'm sorry, Jazz. We need hard evidence." Ironhide says, more apologetic.

"You should've come to me straight away. I would've examined you." Ratchet claims.

The ex-Third in command nods numbly and leaves the room, slowly going back to the hangar.  _He's so damned alone._

A servo pats his aft, and Jazz flinches.

"'ello sweet-butt. Wan' another round?" Crosshairs drawls, pushing the smaller mech up against the wall.

The Spy is lifted, his legs spread, and the Sniper grinds his hot plate against Jazz's cold one.

"Lemme down, ya  _bastard_!" Jazz growls.

"Aaw, don' be like tha'! I know ye liked it yesterday. Got all wet n' took it like a little  _whore_."

Suddenly, Jazz doesn't find it so hard to defend himself anymore. The blade is taken from subspace quicker than his processor can think about it, the tip of the knife pressing in under the seam of Crosshairs' chestplates, aimed for his spark chamber.

"I said; Put. Me. Down." Jazz growls. "Or I'll offline ya."

"Tha's no' wha' ye said yesterday."

" _Fuck_  you." Jazz hisses, so done with the situation.

"'ell  _no!_  I wouldn' le' yer Decepticon-diseased li'l cock anywhere _near_  me!"

The Sniper lets go of Jazz, and the Spy struts off, careful not to flee and give the mech the idea that Jazz is scared, weak or vulnerable, even though his spark is spinning wildly.

He just can't go back to the hangar, can't face more mechs trying to get him into the sack, or even worse; talk about what happened the other night.

The Solstice ends up outside, where a bunch of humans are hanging out in the sun.  _The humans won't expect him to put out, and the knowledge is somewhat soothing._

"Hey! What's up?" He asks, tries to put up his cheerful facade.

They mumble their greetings back, some of them just glancing at the Spy when he lays down next to them.  _As if he's unwanted there._

Jazz suddenly feels cold when they continue to talk amongst themselves, ignoring him.

"Is somethin' wrong, Sam?" Jazz asks.

He's intensely aware of how quiet they go, all eyes on him, and he can practically see the invisible wall between himself and the humans.

"What's  _wrong_?! Really, Jazz?! You hurt my best friend."

Jazz stares at the young man, at first not understanding what he means.

"Why him, Jazz? You know how much Bee hates Barricade."

"It just happened. The first time, I mean." Jazz defends himself weakly.

"The first time. And then it kept 'just happening' until Prowl came back? No, scratch that, it's still keeps happening." Sam's voice is venomous, as if  _he's_  the one being hurt and betrayed.

"That just isn't okay, Jazz. You have a fiance, and your cheating with his brother. Not cool." Epps pipes up.

"Not to mention that we can't trust you. What you're doing is treason. You should be Court martialed." Lennox finishes.

Jazz is speechless. They're going so far as to wanting him on trial and possibly executed.

The perpetually lonely Autobot, no longer able to be his cheerful self, folds into his car-mode and peels out, placing the comm as he goes.  _He really needs his Mustang._

*****

 

 

"Are you still sure of this?" Barricade asks.

"Yeah. If ya can do it, I can do it. There's nothin' left for me there anyway."

"Alright. Not that I'm not happy, I  _am_. Just wanted to be sure." Barricade says and checks the magnacuffs around Jazz's wrist-struts, keeping the Spy's hands locked behind his back. "These are the real deal, you know."

"I know. They're no problem, I can be outta them in three seconds flat."

"Hm. I do like this look on you though. We should try this sometime." Barricade purrs in Jazz's audial, pressing in close.

"Is tha' so, ya pervy Con. Ya want an imprisoned Autobot ta play with?" Jazz purrs back.

"Interrogator, remember? Who wouldn't dream of a pretty little prisoner to have a little fun with?" Barricade murmurs, sliding a servo over Jazz's interface plate.

"Get your filthy servos away from my platin', Decepticreep." Jazz growls playfully.

"Mmm, how about  _no_ , Autoslut." Barricade says, teasing the seam of the panel.

"I'm not tellin' ya anythin'!" Jazz snarls.

"Then I'm not stopping either." Barricade smirks and slips a talon through the seam. "My, you really are hot and wet. Look at you, leaking through the panel already."

"Get off!" Jazz squeaks.

"I intend to. And so will you."

"No, I won't!"

"Safeword, darling?" Barricade leans in and murmurs in Jazz's audial.

"Optimus Prime." Jazz whispers.

Barricade looks him in the optics for long moments and Jazz leans in for a kiss, communicating to his lover that he's ok in a way no words ever could. The kiss is soft and slow and they melt into each other for a while, game forgotten, until Barricade pulls back.

The Interceptor flicks the manual latch to Jazz's interface plate open with a deft talon, smirking, and Jazz gasps in outrage.

"What are ya doin'?"

"Getting off."

Barricade kneels before the cuffed Autobot, a talon pumping slowly into Jazz's valve.

"Such a wet little valve. A Con might think you're not getting what you need at home. Very tempting, but I have a better plan."

The Interceptor leans in and swipes his glossa over Jazz's spike-cover. The spy gasps, spike pressurizing immediately.

"That was easy. Eager little thing, aren't you?" Barricade snickers, talons still working Jazz's increasingly wet valve.

"I'm _not!_  Jazz growls, but his vents hitch when Barricade licks the head of the Autobot's spike, just a flick with his glossa.

"Whatever you want to believe." Barricade murmurs. "I'll make you a willing traitor, little Autoslut."

The Decepticon opens his intake but doesn't suck Jazz's spike into his mouth. Instead, he swirls his stuck out glossa teasingly around the head, his open mouth an invitation for Jazz to take the initiative, to buck into Barricade's intake.

"Frag you! I'm not going to do this willingly." Jazz spits.

Barricade manages to smirk, even with his intake wide open. He folds his denta back flat and presses a kiss to Jazz's spike. The Autobot's hips jerk and he barely stops his spike from slipping into that wet, hot mouth.

"Yes, you will." Barricade murmurs against the head of Jazz's spike.

The Interrogator licks along the underside of Jazz's bobbing spike, looking up at the Spy. Jazz groans when he goes back to just lapping at the head, intake open and inviting. Barricade has two digits in Jazz's valve, curling and uncurling them lazily, his thumb working Jazz's anterior node and the amount of stimulation has Jazz trembling with tension when he forces himself to  _not_  sink his spike into Barricade's mouth.

Then Barricade reaches between his own legs with his other servo and Jazz hears the Interceptor's panel sliding away. The Spy whimpers when he hears the obscenely wet sound when Barricade pushes his digits into his own valve, probably as wet as Jazz's is. The Interceptor shudders in pleasure and Jazz can't stop his hips from bucking just a little, the head of his spike sliding on Barricade's stretched out glossa just past the Interceptor's lip-plates.

The Saleen grins victoriously around the spike and Jazz growls in frustration at his own frame. He pulls out, of course, but that leaves Barricade free to talk.

"I told you that you would come willingly."

The Mustang grinds against his own servo, smirking wickedly at the Spy. Jazz can't stop the whimper from leaving him, his spike achingly hard, valve not full enough, node grazed, but too lightly to let him overload.

_He's not going to beg._

"Are you ready to make yourself a little traitor? Ready to fraternize with a Decepticon?" Barricade purrs and Jazz finds the Interrogator's voice very compelling.  _The Saleen is good._

"Absolutely _not!_ " Jazz hisses, vocalizer crackling with static from his charge.

"No?" 

"'m sure,  _Decepticreep_!"

"Hmh. Such a shame." The Interrogator stops fingering them both and straightens.

Jazz whines at the loss of the stimulation and a truly wicked smile stretches Barricade's intake.

He bends over a container in the warehouse they're in, spreads his legs to show off his array to the Spy, fingering himself.

"My valve is so wet and ready for you, and here you are, too much of a  _prude_  to let a Decepticon corrupt your pureness."

Jazz stares hungrily at those bright biolights, the digits sliding in and out between puffy valve-lips, the lubricant dripping with every pull out.

"Come on, little Autobot. I  _know_  you want to fuck me."

"Fragging _Con!_  I'll show ya how  _morally pure_ I am, ya  _slut._ "

He takes the two steps that separates them and pushes his weeping spike against where Barricade's digits are working his array. The Saleen steers him right and Jazz sinks in to the hilt, admitting defeat in the game and loving every second of it when Barricade rocks back with a mewl that has Jazz's spike twitching.

Jazz sets a brutal pace, the only thing he can do with his servos still cuffed behind his back, and Barricade grabs the container so hard, he renders the metal. The Saleen arches his back and moans loudly, overloading hard and it brings Jazz over. The Spy bends forward over Barricade and bites the Interceptor's shoulder-wing with a growl. Barricade cries out when it makes him overload a second time.

Jazz hangs over Barricade for a while, unable to stand, too spent, and Barricade slowly catches his vents.

"Tha' was fun." Jazz finally says and kisses the dents he left when he bit the Interrogator.

"Mhm."

Jazz stands on wobbly legs to allow the Saleen to get up.

"I wasn't expecting ya ta go  _tha'_  route though..."

"Are you disappointed?" 

" _Hell_  no! But I wouldn't mind if ya got a li'l rough with me. Jus' so ya know."

"I'm...uh..." Barricade hesitates, his field tinged with embarrassment. "I prefer it when  _you_ are the one in control." He mumbles awkwardly, looking away.

Jazz presses in close to the Saleen, unable to wrap his arms around him as the Spy is still cuffed.

"Ya're so dang  _cute_! How can ya still get embarrassed about whatcha like, even after we did  _tha'?_ "

" I don't know." Barricade mumbles, even more embarrassed.

"I love ya so fucking much." Jazz says and kisses Barricade's neck-cables.

"I love you too. But you already know that." Barricade answers, thrown off by Jazz's display of affection.

"I know, but don'  _ever_  stop tellin' me tha'. As long as it's true,  _please_  keep telling me." Jazz presses in harder, his voice pleading.

"I promise."

 

 

*****

 

 

It's similar to when he was walked to the rec room by Ironhide, and still it's not.

He's cuffed this time, though in hindsight, he isn't walking into enemy territory more this time than back then.  _He just hadn't recognized his enemies._

Barricade is a soothing presence flanking him, even if they walk in as captor and prisoner.  _Not that Jazz needs to be soothed. He's capable of taking care of himself._

As they walk down the hallway, Decepticons turn to stare, to leer and snicker and Jazz keeps his helm high, doesn't deign to acknowledge them.

They step into the command room and as the occupants notice them, everything slowly falls silent.

"Barricade! Report." Megatron barks.

"I've brought a defector. Says he wants to join the Decepticons."

Megatron's piercing optics lock on Jazz and the Spy can't help smirking as the Warlord scans him.

"Designation: Ricochet. Low level grunt, decent with explosives, shooting just below average, has a penchant for high grade and boosters and an IQ slightly below average." Megatron quotes Jazz's fake profile out loud, red optics locked on the Spy. "Why do you think I need _him?_ " The Warlord asks Barricade in annoyance.

"Isn't one more soldier a good thing, Lord Megatron?" Barricade asks, unsure.  _The Saleen wasn't fully aware of how good a cover Jazz has created, still sometimes gets unsure of what is the truth and what's fake._  

"He might be faking just to save his plating. I don't have time for this." Megatron turns away without having even addressed Jazz. "Blackout! Throw him in the brig. Let the crew have a little fun with him if they want. We'll see if he still wants to join after that."

Jazz catches the look of alarm on Barricade's face before he's mechhandled away by the huge Helo.

"Come along, Autobutt. I'll show you a little  _hospitality_. Decepticon style." Blackout growls, sliding as servo over Jazz's hip with obvious intent.

Jazz starts fiddling with the cuffs, though Blackout's apparently believes that Jazz's is just struggling against being molested. The Helicopter chuckles, sliding a huge servo down Jazz's front.

"Lord Megatron! You got it all wrong!" Jazz shouts.

The cuffs fall away and Jazz immediately jumps, grabbing the unprepared Helo around the neck, swinging around like a monkey to land on Blackout's shoulders.

Megatron has spun around, annoyed at the interruption, staring as Jazz straddles the Helo's neck and presses a sharp little blade against the largest energon line in Blackout's neck. The Decepticon freezes in place.

"My name's not Ricochet; I'm _Jazz._  I'm  _excellent_  with explosives, blades n' guns, pick locks, hack computers and get out of energon cuffs pretty efficiently." Jazz flashes the Decepticon leader one of his trademark grins.

The corners of Megatron's intake quirk.

"How did  _you_  manage to catch that one, Barricade?"

"I told you. He  _wants_  to defect." Barricade says flatly, not prepared for that question.

"He seduced me n' persuaded me tha' I should come, but he's too  _modest_  ta take credit for such underhanded tactics. Oh, and he's damned  _limber._ " Jazz stage whispers.

"So... You're _Jazz,_ you say. Can you actually _prove_  this? Except for the rather impressive way you just broke free."

"I could, but 'm not all tha' sure I'd survive presentin'  _tha_ ' piece o' evidence."

"So I'm supposed to just take your word for it?"

"How 'bout tha coordinates to-, n' tha blueprints o' tha Autobot base? Along with a complete list of tha armament, human resources n' a full roster o' tha present Autobots? Complete with a full profile on everyone, o' course."

"You can do that?"

"As certain as Soundie canna' find tha base 'cuz all tha' transmissions r' hidden in an algorithm tha' sends it through various social media." Jazz turns to Soundwave.

The inscrutable mech somehow manages to look outraged without moving a plate.

"I knew ya would'na look for military secrets among rollin' racoon gifs, tha humans' dinner photos, n' rantin' 'bout tha latest fashion failure." Jazz says.

Soundwave stares at him for a long time, probably looking it up, before he nods once.

"Ingenious. Lord Megatron; the probability of this mech being Jazz is very high."

"Fair enough. If you climb down from my subordinate without offlining him, we'll talk."

"I'll even tell ya about every single camera I've planted in this base. All 67 of 'em."

"What?!" Megatron snarls, glaring at Soundwave.

"Don' be too hard on 'im. I'm  _very_  good at what I do. N' don' worry; I've cut tha feed from tha cameras along my way in an' in here. Tha Autobots doesn't know I'm here."

"Sixty seven?"

"I'm a curious Cathy." Jazz says as he climbs down from Blackout. He pats the Helo's ventral plating. "Sorry, big boy, I only frag him." He points to Barricade.

"We all do." Blackout grumbles.

"Not anymore, ya don't." Jazz's smile is razor sharp and his visor flashes dangerously.

"You calling dibs on the base whore?" Blackout asks, incredulous.

"Enough! Blackout, leave!" Megatron roars.

"Excellent. Le's get down ta business."

 

 

*****

 

 

**A year later**

"I think the two of you should have a say in what we do with the next prisoner. If you can stop your foreplay for a few moments, and help me out with this before you  _get a room._ " Megatron smirks from his throne.

Barricade reluctantly pulls back from the heated kiss that was turning indecent at an alarming rate and turns his helm to their leader. Jazz lifts the Saleen from his lap and stands from his chair, lacing their digits.

He drags the slightly smaller Mustang up to stand with him next to Megatron.

"Hi, Optimus." Jazz says cheerily.

Sad, blue optics meet the Spy's new red visor from the former Autobot leader's place in the corner.

"Jazz." He says, voice pained.

" You know, when you're constantly doing that in public, a mech gets tempted to join..." Megatron says.

"Tha' might happen, if Cade wants it too." Jazz smirks wickedly at Megatron.

They all turn to the mechs on the floor between Megatron's throne and the wall of screens showing different worksites all around the world. The Autobots are mechhandled to their knees, servos cuffed behind their backs.

Prowl looks scandalized when he stares at Jazz. The Autobot is dented, scratched and dirty after months on the run and his eventual capture.

"Would ya look at tha'! My ex. N' a bonus rapist for company." 

Jazz's visor glides over to the Sniper. He grins nastily at the green Bot.

"What should we do with them?" Megatron asks.

Jazz turns to Barricade.

"Whadd'ya think, darling? He's your bro' after all."

"I don't really care." Barricade shrugs Don't spare him for my sake. Do what you want, Jazz. I know what a bastard he was to you."

"How  _could_ you, Jazz?!" Prowl asks. "Or is it that  _coding_  of yours, acting up? I see that you are still interfacing withall and sundry." He says derisively.

"Oh, I dunno, Prowl. What d'  _ya_  think? Tha way ya treated me? Called me names? Or how 'bout tha' time ya accused me o' beein' a whore instead of investigating if I was  _raped_? Or maybe I jus' did na' wanna be among mechs who couldn't understand that my valve isn't free for all ta use? Take your pick, maybe it's all o' the above." Jazz states coldly, truly looking like the Decepticon he has become.

"I am not going to say that I am sorry. You are a cheating, backstabbing, lying, coat turning little _whore_  and that is the  _truth_." Prowl states in that infuriatingly flat voice.

Jazz grinds his denta.

"Maybe if you were lovable, if you treated him with the respect he deserves and accepted him the way he is, in spite of his past, he wouldn't have been forced to seek love elsewhere. If you had handled this better, he might have taken me up on my offer to defect for him." Barricade snarls, defending his lover.

Megatron rumbles a laugh. 

"I should thank you, Prowl. Should thank you  _all_ , in fact, for treating Jazz the way you did. Instead of me losing a good soldier, I kept him and gained another. Congratulations, Prowl, you effectively tipped the war in my favor."

Jazz sees the telltale twitches in Prowl's frame, the way his optics flicker. The  _Autobot Officer is glitching again_. 

For the first time, Jazz watches him fight the meltdown without feeling sorry for him, without wanting,  _and trying_ , to help him get through it.  _If the Autobots can put a non-functional mech like Prowl as the second in command, kick out one of their best Officers, then they deserve their defeat._ They're not as good as they pretend. 

And the humans were no better. They were ruining their own planet anyway, might as well use it for a good purpose. Cybertron is being rebuilt, the humans actually have proven useful as a workforce, along with some of the captured Autobots. The defeat of Prime really has sent the rest of them running around like beheaded chickens. And now that Prowl is caught, the few grunts remaining at large will soon be caught and put to good use.

"So, what do you want to do with them?"

Jazz is ripped out of his musings by Megatron's deep voice.

He looks at the Warlord and Megatron raises his cannon slightly, the whine as it powers up filling the silence in a wordless suggestion.

"Nah, tha' would be too  _easy_. Let the crew feed them loads o' high grade n' when they're close ta passin' out, they can have their way with them. Since we don' allow  _rape_  among the Decepticons, n' it isn't rape if they don' say 'no' or keep their legs closed. Then ya can hook Prowl up ta tha livefeed from tha cameras in tha harvest locations. Let 'im see wha' his narrow-mindedness caused."

Megatron laughs, a slow sound of dark amusement.

"I guess the All-spark holds no rage like a love turned hate." He muses out loud.

"You're so  _hot_  when you're being righteously cold-sparked." Barricade almost mewls, rubbing up against Jazz, field heavy with want.

"You heard my chief of Special Ops! Get them drunk and do what you want, but you have to respect a 'no'. We  _Decepticons_  don't condone rape, like the Autobots do." Megatron barks at the mechs guarding the prisoners.

"Jazz! What have you done?!" Optimus calls out, voice tinged with horror.

"Nothing ya didn't do to me. I wasn't raped, remember?"

"How does those double morals taste now, Prime?" Megatron rumbles.

"I want you." Barricade moans in Jazz's audial.

"Invite tha boss?" Jazz murmurs.

"Yesssss." Barricade hisses.

"Enjoy having your seal broken, Prowl. We'll go have a fully consensual threesome in the meantime." Jazz calls out to the dented Autobot. "If ya're really interested, my Lord?"

"Of course! Let's take this to my quarters. Your berth is just too small."

"As ya command, boss-Con!"


End file.
